Ten Things Claire Knows
by tfbl
Summary: Ten Things That Claire Never Thought She Would Know About Gabriel Gray
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

**Chapter 1 (?) : 10 Little Things That Claire Never Thought She Would Know About Gabriel Gray.**

1. Claire wouldn't have thought she would know that Gabriel preferries White Peach tea over Earl Gray when he was stressed, that he only meat he likes is chicken, that he can't complete a tongue-twister to save his life, or that he absolutely _cannot_ stand the smell of pumpkin pie.

2. There are nine freckles spread out across his skin.

3. Despite Virginia Gray's near constant putdowns, emotionally manipulative behavior, and clearly unstable mental state, Gabriel had loved his mother more then anyone in the world.

4. Sylar, despite being so deeply buried within Gabriel, is by no means gone. At times she will see Sylar in the blazing, laser like quitatily of Gabriel's eyes, the hardness and cunning of his smile, or the possessiveness of his voice and his hands upon her body. It's not that Gabriel and Sylar are two separate personatlies, not exactly. They are both intelligent, condsiderdite, protective, posses a fierce temper, are both anal retentive neat freaks, and seem obsessed with their hair at times. Both drink coffee only on Saturday mornings, each hate trains, country music, and sweater vests, and both love the smell of her hair.

There is one important difference however; Gabriel is struggling to maintain control over The Hunger. Nearly everyday is a agonizing, brutal, burning struggle to _have more, take more, consume more, to learn more_, and even centuries later there are times when Gabriel can barley keep himself from drowning. Sylar on the other hand has completely subcomed to The Hunger. He has allowed that need to _take/have/consume/devour/learn_ to coat nearly his entire being like thick, black oil until she would recognize almost no part of him.

Despite that one major difference between Sylar and Gabriel, there is one thing that is an unbreakable, concert solid constant for each of them. Both Gabriel and Sylar would give their lives for hers.

5. Claire finds how he has excelled tremendously within the fields of Neurosurgery and **psychology** to be a little ironic.

6. When Gabriel is concerting he will poke his tongue out of the corner of his mouth.

7. He hates the smell of strawberry shampoo, the sight of spiders, the feel of unwashed hair, the taste of caramel, and the sound of dogs barking.

8. Gabriel likes to hang crystals on the curtain rode of their bedroom window. He claims it's because she likes them, but Claire knows the true reason is that Gabriel loves how the tiny rainbows dance across her skin.

9. Claire thinks how the concept of magic tricks are completely beyond the realm of his compression, despite over three centuries spent attempting to master them, to be hilarious.

10. For the first three years of knowing him, whenever she thought of Sylar's eyes she saw greed, anger, hate, and a lust for power. When he was trying to redeem himself she witnessed within Gabriel's eyes guilt, fear, self loathing, vurnabitily, and a pleading to be loved; to be_ enough_. She never thought that she could look into the eyes of both Sylar and Gabriel and witness love, protectiveness, desire, friendship, and trust.

**AN: In addition to this being my first time writing anything Heroes related, I'm also only up to the second season of the series, so forgive me if my characterization is completely off base.**

**Also, because my beta seems to have abandoned me, I am now requesting your help. Certain areas of my grammar and spelling are beyond crap, so could you please point out any errors? I'm also not completely happy with # 4, so if you could offer up any comments it would be greatly appreciated.**

**If you like this story I will write a second chapter focusing on 10 big things that Claire learns.**

**TBC ?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 : 10 Big Things That Claire Learns About Gabriel Gray.**

**AN: This isn't exactly so much 10 things that Claire learns, but rather a mixture of things she learns and things that she never thought would happen in regards to Sylar.**

**Disclaimer: Only the plot belongs to me.**

As much as Claire hates to admit it, she and Sylar are equally matched in terms of stubbornness and temper. Peter once described them as "two snarling wolves tugging on the same deer carcass". Despite the weird metaphor Peter's not wrong. Forty years after jumping off that Ferris Wheel, Claire is as equally determined to hate Sylar forever as Sylar is to prove to her that he has changed. Thirty years later Claire is just as focused on moving to London for her career as Gabriel is not to let her go (in the end they leave together). At their wedding 300 years later both remain firm that the only people they wish to invite are Peter and Julia Petrelli (Peter's wife of 70 years, who also has the power of rapid cellar regeneration), even though they have to travel from the middle of Alaska for the ceremony. Each are also equally determined to make the other "theirs" forever, and fourtantly this is something that both are in complete agreement over.

Gabriel's temper is like a snake; occansialy visible as it approaches, but always rising to the surface lighting quick. When Gabriel strikes it is with words, which he uses with deadly skill, precision and accuracy.

Temper wise Claire is like cat; giving off clear warnings of her rising anger, and when she attacks it's normally with words, but more often then not the words are ferric and will surly bleed.

When they fight it will more often then not result in full out screaming matches that may last for an hour or more, depending on which of them is angrier. It's so loud and intense in fact, that many people have assumed that they were a married couple two seconds away from divorce (and this was when they could barley tolerate each other). Sometimes it becomes so loud, that Peter and Julia once remarked that NASA should record it because she and Gabriel had figured out how to break the sound barrier.

Despite the ferocity of their tempers and the words that are wielded like weapons, neither Claire nor Gabriel have ever said anything to hurt the other, for both are aware how much they each have been hurt in their lives, and both would sooner allow themselves to be experimented upon rather then cause the other to bleed.

**2. **

Experiencing mind numbing, heart stopping terror when the man whom Claire thought she loathed more then anyone took a bullet to the back of his skull for her?

Feeling her heart pound so hard it felt as though it would leap out of her chest as she dragged his limp, impossibly heavy body out of the line of fire?

Not thinking twice when she carefully used a stick to pick the bullet out of his brain so he could heal?

Claire Bennett had always thought that she would be glad to see this man die.

As she crouches there in the dark, Sylar's blood staining her hands and clothes with bits of his bone and brain matter stuck to her face and hair, next to an overflowing dumpster with the sounds of gunshots only a few feet away, she realizes this isn't the case.

**3**.

Claire had always assumed a lot of things about Sylar.

**Sylar enjoys every single act of murder he commits. **

Claire never would have thought that Sylar had loathed himself for every murder, or that his power came with a Hunger 20,000 times more powerful then the strongest drug addiction. Claire didn't know that for years he was powerless against it, and even as the guilt, regret, and self loathing grew stronger and stronger _he could not stop._

**Sylar had lived a perfectly normal life until he began to commit senseless acts of murder. **

Claire hadn't known that for years his mother hadpsychologically abused him. Virginia Gray had constantly told Gabriel that he wasn't good enough, he didn't try hard enough and was a disappointing excuse for a son, that he was _special_ and could be so much more then a _mere watch maker _because they both knew he could do better. Gabriel's mother would never aknowdgle his accomplishments, no matter if he received an A on a 12 page research paper or if he began to single handily run his Watch Repair shop at the age of fifteen while attending college full time.

Virginia would rarely touch her son, leaving him almost physically aching for the occasional hand in his hair or on his check. On those rare occasions when he did experience her touch, nearly every time she would immeadtily wash her hands afterwards, muttering all the while about germs. Now, as an adult Gabriel understands that her reaction was caused by OCD, but as a child he had thought that something was wrong with _him_, that he was _dirty_ and _disgusting_, and it was _his own fault_ his mother was afraid to touch her own son.

**Sylar was incapable of loving another person, and had never done so in his life. **

Virginia Gray's son had loved her more then anything. He'd loved her despite the emotional abuse, the neglect, the pain she'd caused him as both a child and an adult, and her nearly complete inability to express that she loved him as well. When she disowned him after he had tried so hard to give her a gift, to make her _proud_ of him, the heartbreak he'd felt was nearly crippling. As he felt her blood flowing onto his hands and saw her eyes widen in shock and agony Sylar hoped **Hiro **Nakamura would kill him. Sylar pleaded with the other man finish the job, begged him to end his life as had been predicted in that comic book, for now… now he truly was a monster.

Elle… Gabriel couldn't have said that he truly _loved _her. Gabriel knows that even if time and cirimstances had been in their favor, his feelings would not have developed passed that first stage where lust is fueling the emotion of love. Elle may have loved him, but she also wanted Sylar, not Gabriel Gray. Elle wanted the Monster that he was more then capable of being, the Monster that Gabriel loathed, the killer whom he feared, and the aspect of himself that he was determined to vanquish. In the end Elle got her wish, and yet she didn't. Sylar may have ended her life, but Gabriel was the one who cremated her body, who felt regret and love for her. Sylar felt nothing.

**Sylar hated lies because it represented something that he had no control over. **

Lies did not represent a loss of control to Sylar. They meant worthlessness, pain, betrayal, shame, and being used for another's gain.

Lies represented a father who had sold him. Had sold him as if he were a _slave, property_, as if he were an _worthless animal_ that you had no further use for.

Lies brought to mind Martian Gray, the "father" whom abandoned his six year old son to care for an mentally unstable mother. Martian Gray meant a six year old child staring out the front window while his mother obsessively cleaned the tiny apartment, waiting for a father that never came back. Martian Gray's lies meant suffering, pain, fear, confusion, and self blame that no child should ever feel.

_Please come back daddy. I'll be good, I'll make sure mommy doesn't clean so much and you won't get any more letters from my teachers. I won't read so much and we can watch TV every night like you want to even though mommy hates it. I won't cry and wake you up at night because I have dreams about monsters chasing me. Oh daddy, please, please come back. What did I do wrong? Daddy… I love you. _

Lies meant Elle. Elle was the anger, hullimation, pain and betrayal of realizing that the only person whom had thought he was special and worth something, whom liked him, the girl he was falling head over heals for, and perhaps most importantly the only friend he'd ever had, was manipulating him for her own gain. Yes, as time passed Sylar was able to forgive her for her actions and let go of his own initial emotions, for he could feel her genuine guilt and regret for deceiving him and causing him so much pain. But, you see the thing was Sylar had been fighting so hard to control The Hunger for her power, and when he discovered Elle was lying to him once again? Well the intensity of his emotions cased his control to break. Sylar killed the first woman he had loved, all because of a lie, and all for a power that he rarely uses.

**4. **

**He would fight for her.**

Claire is sitting in a booth in a Caribou Coffee Shop, slowly nursing her French roast and fighting back tears. She has just left the nursing home where her dad now lives. Noah Bennett is suffering from advanced Alzheimer's Disease. He no longer recognizes anyone, not his old friend The Haitian, his daughter, or his grandson. Noah no longer recalls his work for the Company, his parents, not even his own name.

As she stares blankly into the dark liquid she is aware of someone sitting down across from her. Claire brushes her currently brown hair out of her face and looks up sharply, intending to tell this person, whomever they are, to get the hell out of her booth. When she sees the man only a foot or two away however, the words quickly die on her tongue.

Sylar is lounging in the booth opposite her, a muffin in front of him and appearing the same as he always has.

It's funny how much your view of someone can change in forty years. Claire no longer loathes and fears Sylar. She doesn't want to see him dead or in a prison cell. Claire recognizes that Sylar is trying to redeem himself, that he is fighting to control The Hunger. Claire knows that Sylar truly is a good person despite everything he's done, and she also knows that he is determined to have her as a friend.

For all that though, Claire can't muster up more then a slightly fond tolerance for him.

"Why are you here?" she asks wearily, not really in the mood for conversation.

Fourantly, Sylar doesn't appear to be either, for he simply shrugs and stares at her for a few seconds, his dark eyes unreadable.

"You looked like you could use some company, that's all." Sylar replies quietly.

Claire opens her mouth, to say what exactly she doesn't know, for it's then that she catches sight of that tattoo on his arm. The image of her own face, still as clear and detailed as it was on the day she first saw it, that day in college over fifty years ago when Sylar briefly held her hostage in an empty classroom as he attempted to understand why they were so different.

"_It's destiny showing me what I desire. They told me I need a connection, a friend."_

"_You'll get bored, after like a hundred years of trying to off me, watching all your loved ones drop like flies. You may eventually come to forgive me. Maybe you'll even love me."_

As Sylar's words from so long ago echo through her memory the truth of them unexpectedly slam into her. Her loved ones are now dying all around her, most of her friends are dead (well, except Peter, but Claire hasn't seen him since the day after she reveled herself to the public. Something about Peter being afraid of "screwing up her future"… whatever that meant) and her father is wasting away. Soon Sylar will be the only one left. If the tattoo contains an ounce of truth, she really will become friends with someone whom she barely tolerates.

Claire puts her head on the table and covers her face with her arms, trying to regain some compuse. As if a dam has burst, Claire becomes aware of the feeling of tears on her face and hears harsh sobs wrenched out of her throat.

Dimly Claire knows she should be embarrassed by the fact that she's having a breakdown in a public coffee shop, but as the tears soak her shirt sleeves and the tidal wave of… just everything rises within her chest she finds that she doesn't give a shit.

Claire feels the booth dip as someone sits down next to her, close enough for her to feel their body heat through the fabric of their shirt. She is aware of an arm tentavitally coming to rest on her shoulders, and without pausing to consider who this person is Claire grasps their large hand tightly and buriers her tear streaked face in the broad shoulder beside her. As she continues to sob she feels the arm tighten around her and hears a low voice calling the server over.

The next thing Claire is aware of is being carried outside, then experiences being teleported away, those arms still holding her tightly. After they arrive at their desention Claire feels the person holding her walk a few steps then attempt to lower her onto a soft surface. Still sobbing Claire clutches the person's arms tightly as she feels them beginning to withdraw. She is aware of the person hesaiting for a long moment before they lower their weight onto the surface beside her. When she feels them settle she presses herself against them, feeling a broad, warm chest against her face and long, strong legs next to her own.

Claire isn't sure how long she lies there, tears pouring from her eyes in a seemingly constant stream, but eventually they cease and she looks up to see who laying next to her.

When she finds Sylar watching her, she doesn't feel surprise, partially because on some level Claire knew all along it was him, and also because emotional exhaustion is preventing her from feeling much of anything.

Claire is vaguely aware of Sylar removing her shoes and pulling the blue comforter on her bed (so that's what she's been laying on) over her, unable to object due to the fact that she is already half asleep.

"Why are you fighting so hard to get me to like you Sylar?"

Claire is slightly surprised to hear those words issuing from her mouth, not having realized she had spoken.

There is silence for such a long time that Claire assumes she is dreaming when she feels a surprisingly gentle hand brushing her hair back behind her ear. The hand moves downward to softly trace her jaw, lingering for a moment before withdrawing.

"I'll always fight for you, Cheerleader."

The words are spoken in barley more then a whisper, but they ring with such tenderness, love, and sincerity that Claire knows whomever that voice is speaking to is the luckiest person in the world.

The next morning Claire has no recollection of the whispered voice, nor the hand that traced her features. She does remember how Sylar had given her comfort and safety when she needed it, and decides to make more of an effort. After all, if she's going to be stuck with him for eternity, she may as well like him.

**5. **

**He will sacrifice everything for her.**

Another world war has broken out, the third in 600 years. This time it's a genetic war, similar to the Nazi Germany. Now, the "unclean" individuals are those with green eyes. Her eyes.

When the law was first passed, neither of them could truly believe it. A genetic war? After all these centuries that humans spent claiming that they were passed such things? After they swore that there would never be another Adolf Hitler, Rodland Jemri, or Patrick O'Neil? Did the human race _never_ learn from their own history? As the soldiers began patrolling the streets, as the posters and new laws went into effect, as the killings began, it didn't appear so.

Already tens of thousands of people have been either arrested and taken to camps, or executed in their homes. Those that are taken to the camps are forced into living conditions, labor, treatment, and expertamention that rivals the African American slave days and the Nazi Camps combined. If discovered, many force the soldiers to kill them, preferring death to the horror that awaits them.

All hours of the night gunshots and explosions are clearly heard as soldiers and police raid homes, the sewers, even seemingly deserted fields as "the devil eyes" are discovered, many of whom are killed like an animal going to slaughter.

After the law had initially passed they had tried to leave the country, only to discover that all forms of transport had been prevented from crossing the border. When the "cleansing process" and bombings began they had gone into hiding, forced to move every few days in order to avoid detection. They would find a new location at night, when it was safer, and, ignoring the people that lay dyeing in the streets, the explosions only a few feet away that burned the clothes from the bodies, and the scenes of mass genocide all around them, Claire and Gabriel Gray focused on saving themselves.

Claire and Gabriel are currently inside the dark, cold, dirty basement of an abandoned house. The basement is small; only 6 by 12. The floor is made of stone and rodents and insects scurry passed. Broken boards they have gathered cover the floor only a few feet away, the razor sharp, jagged ends turn the seemingly harmless objects into perfect impalements.

They are both covered in dirt from running through the streets, crawling on their stomach's through fields, and swimming through rivers to escape the soldiers. Dried blood from gunshot wounds that would have surly killed them had they been normal paint their hair, clothes, and skin crimson. Neither have had anything to eat or drink for weeks, and although they do not appear to be, each are suffering the effects of starvation and sever dehydration. If they could not regenerate each would be little more then a walking skeleton.

Claire is leaning against her husband, her filthy head on his shoulder. His arm is wrapped around her waist, his right hand is clutching her bare, crimson stomach were, only hours ago six bullets were lodged. Her eyelids began to droop, but she fights the pull of sleep and forces them back open, terrified of their hiding place being discovered. Her gaze lands on the Gabriel's face only a few inches above her own. He is watching her with concern and fear clearly visible in his eyes. Claire's eyes fall closed once again, so she misses the moment when his gaze hardens, his descion made.

Gabriel strokes his wife's hair back behind her ear and gently kisses her forehead. She presses herself closer to him and grips him tighter, seeking his presence even as she begins to fall into an exhausted sleep. Gabriel watches her, stalling for a moment before slowly removing his arm from around her body. As he stands Claire awakens from the brief sleep she had fallen into and blinks blearily at Gabriel, assuming for a moment she is seeing things as his eyes suddenly change from brown to green. As he gains his footing relaztion, then horror crashes through her.

Gabriel is planning on going out there amongst the soldiers _with green eyes_, the color that is considered "unclean". He would immediately be arrested and taken to a camp where he would be beaten, starved, experimented upon, and who knows what else. Gabriel would be sacrificing his freedom, dignity, perhaps even his life, all so that she may have a better chance to survive.

Claire grabs his hand with as much strength as she can muster, forcing a horse "No!" out of her dry, parched throat.

Gabriel looks back at her, those unfamiliar orbs shining like emeralds in the dim light, and weakly attempts to loosen her grip.

"Yes, Claire. You need to-"

"I need you!" she says, her voice low due to anger fueled by fear and desperation.

Gabriel gazes down at her for a few moments and, then, as if he has lost the strength to remain standing sinks back down beside her. He half pulls and half allows her to crawl into his lap, tightening his arms around her small frame. Claire tucks her head underneath her husband's chin while he buriers his nose in her hair, not caring about the tangles and grease or dirt and dried blood, and simply inhales her sent.

Claire and Gabriel Gray sit there on the hard floor, amongst the dirt, spider webs, cockroaches and rats. They listen to the echoes of gunshots and bombs, to the screams of pain and pleads for mercy. They feel the cold stone and broken boards against skin that has been laid bare by the blasts of atomic bombs. They are exhausted, starving, filthy, bloody, and terrified. And each are clinging desperately to the only person that matters.

**6.**

Although Peter is not Gabriel's brother biologically, he still considers him to be so. It probley has a lot to do with those seemingly eight years they spent together inside Sylar's mind, not to mention the eight centuries since then they have spent in getting to know the other. Claire is sure that Gabriel would never show Peter such a high level of loyalty, respect, trust, and love otherwise. Short of something that would harm her, there is nothing that Gabriel would not do or say for Peter.

Peter's feeling's towards Gabriel are just as strong as they had once been for Nathan, perhaps even more so, due to all of the centuries they've spent together. If you think of how much they used to hate each other it's pretty ironic. Peter and Gabriel have lived together on and off for decades at a time, been to each other's weddings, and saved the other's life multiple times, just to name a few of the countless things they've each done for the other. If there are two closer "brothers" anywhere Claire has yet to find them.

**7. **

Throughout his childhood Gabriel never had a friend. The only interaction he had with his peers was in the form of taunts and savage attacks, both of which left him aching, bruised and bleeding. When his mother noticed his wounds Gabriel would lie to her about the source, claiming that he had spent recesses wrestling with his friends. Sometimes his mother believed him, but others times when his wounds were especially bad concern, guilt, and an expression of _knowing _would enter her eyes. That was one of the few times that the small child knew that, despite everything, his mother loved him.

**8. **

Gabriel has never lied to her. It's not that she thought he lied to her with every other breath or anything, and after 214 years she cernaintally trusts her friend completely. Claire had always just assumed that he stretched the truth were those little, seemingly inconsequential things were concerned.

The day that she realizes how honest Gabriel truly is with her occurs far too late, at least as far as her ego is concerned. Claire is sitting across from him at an outdoor café table in Italy. The waiter stops by their table to see if they require any more coffee, and with a start Claire recognizes her ex boyfriend, Roberto. She and Roberto had split two years ago after she'd figured out that he had been having a four month long affair.

Claire glared at him, more on principle now rather due to any lingering hurt, and with some confusion she realized Roberto seemed to have become paralyzed by terror**. **Although Claire would have been flattered to think she was the cause, she knew that a 5'4 petite blonde didn't exactly inspire expressions that suggested one had just been told they were on their way to the guillotine.

It was then she noticed that Roberto was staring wide eyed at Gabriel, who was coolly gazing back at him over the rim of his cup. As Gabriel causally turned his gaze back to the menu in front of him Roberto suddenly took off, not appearing to notice when he plowed into several chairs and sent a table flying in his frantic haste to escape.

"What was that about?" Claire asked, honestly not expecting an answer.

Gabriel, who had appeared not to have noticed Roberto's extremely loud and terrified exit, put down his coffee cup, gazing at her with unwavering brown eyes.

"He hurt you Claire." Gabriel said, in a tone that implied she was missing something obvious.

"Yes, that's true. But that doesn't explain why he looked like he'd just seen the decapitated ghost of his grandmother."

" I told you I'd telekinetically break his legs if he caused you pain. Don't you remember ?" Gabriel asked, concern appearing in his eyes.

"Well of course I do Gabriel," Claire remarked, slightly exsesperated, wishing he'd get to the point already, "but what does a small white lie have to do with – "

" I've never lied to you Claire, why would I start now?" Gabriel interrupted, raising his eyebrow.

Claire opened her mouth to correct him, to say that _of course_ he lied to her occansialy, and she didn't expect him to be honest all the time…. when she realized that _Gabriel had never lied to her._

He hadn't lied to her when he said that he hadn't meant to cause her pain after he saved her from that vortex.

He didn't lie when he told her that her father, Noah, would never truly see her or others like her as human.

Sylar was telling the truth when he told her that she and him were more alike then any of them, even as he forced her, her dad, and her biological family to run for their lives.

Gabriel didn't lie when he said she could sleep in his spare bedroom anytime she wanted, when he swore he'd drank only two shots of whiskey, or that he didn't mind spending the day playing Frisbee in Central Park with her.

Gabriel had always stuck by his word when he promised to give her space when she requested it, when he swore not to get involved in her relanships even when he loathed her choice of partner, or those countless times he allowed her to deal with her own emotional problems that seemed to be inevitablewith immorality.

He told the truth when he said that he would never use her, leave her, attempt to kill her, or over protect her, even though Claire knew she had given him more then enough reasons and opportunities to do so over the years.

Gabriel knew, thanks to the countless decades Claire had spent trusting the former psychopath, that as she was growing up those whom she had loved and trusted had constantly lied to her. If it had only been a few times Claire would have easily overlooked the deception. Instead the lies came in a constant never ending stream. They were built, stacked, buried, twisted, and knotted around, over, and under each other so tightly it would have taken years to uncover every one.

The fact that Gabriel had never, in over two hundred years deceived her, not even about the smallest thing? It reveled a depth of care and concern for her emotional well being, as well unfathomable respect for her as a person that no one had ever shown her.

Pushing down the shock and gratitude that this unexpected revelation caused she focused her attention back on Gabriel, who was still gazing at her expectantly.

"I can't really think of a reason, to tell you the truth". Claire said, shrugging.

"Knew you'd figure it out eventually Cheerleader". Gabriel replied, smiling that familiar grin of his that was 60% smug and 40% cocky, apparently not fooled at all by her attempt at a causal response.

Claire, not surprised by her friend's response, smiled in amusement as Gabriel returned his attention to the menu.

Realizing that no more would be spoken on the subject, Claire also refocused her attention. As she sipped the last of her drink Claire silently thanked whatever God existed for the man sitting across from her.

**9. **

That night at the Carnival Claire received a tattoo from a man named Samuel. As she let her mind clear, allowing the ink to flow across her body and create the image of the one person whom she would need and desire the most, who was her destiny, she hadn't really given it much thought**.** When the image began to form on her left hip, Claire had assumed that the tattoo would be of Peter, her dad, or possibly Gretchen.

So when she saw the face of the man who had removed her skull and taken her power, who had killed her biological father, who had murdered dozens of people and made her life a living nightmare? Well, let's just say that for the next several hours her emotions were a swirling vortex of shock, horror, disgust, and denial. The fact that a few days latter that Sylar reveled a tattoo of _her_ face on his own arm? It was just a sick, twisted condisence.

It would take forty years after graduating college for her to grudgingly admit that Sylar might not be a complete monster after all.

Fifteen years latter, they have become friends of a sort. Not close ones certainly, but enough for her to think that the tattoo wasn't wholly wrong.

By the time 214 years have passed, they are seeing each other for hours daily, taking trips to France, China, and Italy, going to bookstores and museums, hell they're practically _living _at each others homes. Now, Claire has no problem admitting that the tattoo was correct that she would need Sylar more then anyone. He had become her best friend, confident, the only person that she felt completely safe around, her source of trust and loyalty, and the one constant in her life. But loving him as a lover? That's were that ink was dead wrong, Claire told herself firmly.

Seven hundred years latter Claire looks out their kitchen widow of their home in Greece. She watches their children, Leah, Noah, Andrew, and Sara, all of whom have inherited their rapid cellar regeneration power, playing in the back yard. She smiles as she feels her husband of 321 years come up behind her and place one hand over her tattoo, his other arm full with two year old Allison, and gently kiss her neck. Who would have ever thought that a tattoo gotten over 500 years ago on a whim would revel her destiny?

**10. **

In the past 4,000 years Claire has learned so much about Gabriel Gray.

She knows that he hates the smell of pumpkin pie and strawberry shampoo. She is aware that his mother abused him and that he likes how the tiny rainbows from crystals dance across her skin. She can tell you exactly where each freckle resides upon his body or that he loathes caramel. Claire knows that Gabriel loves Peter and Julia Pretrial like siblings, that he loves her natural hair color the most out of any shade she's experimented with, and that he has can't sleep on his stomach. She knows exactly how long Gabriel fought The Hunger, is aware that their tattoos were smarter then she had been willing to admit, and that their children mean the world to him.

Claire knows both Sylar and Gabriel will give their lives for hers, that they will always fight for her and sacrifice everything for her. She knows he will always be there for her, has never lied to her, and that he loves her.

Claire has also learned something else in regards to Gabriel Gray; She is everything to him.

As Claire Sandra Gray watches the man who is her best friend, husband, and lover sleep next to her in their bed, his features the same as they were that night at her school so long ago, she wraps her arms tighter around his taller frame. As his arms automatically hold her more closely in response she buries her face in his neck and inhales his sent.

As she drifts off to sleep something else that she has learned over the course of 4,000 plus years crosses her mind. She may be everything to her husband, but Gabriel "Sylar" Gray is also everything to her.

**END**

**So? What do you think? I think that I may have gotten carried away on a few of them. I also know that the time intervals may not make sense, but in my defense I wasn't paying attention, plus my math skills are about 13 light-years beyond terrible. Thank you to everyone that's reviewed.**

**I don't really expect anyone to care, but on the off chance that you do, there are images of Julia ****Petrelli**** and the Gray children on my profile. **


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